


Chosen 5: Siege

by Natalie L (nat1228)



Series: Chosen [5]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: AU, Alternate Universes, Drama, Episode Related, M/M, Other: See Story Notes, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:17:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nat1228/pseuds/Natalie%20L
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Jim and Blair make plans for their honeymoon, the Sunrise Patriots and Kincaid show up to throw a monkey wrench into the preparations.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Chosen 5: Siege

## Chosen 5: Siege

#### by Natalie L

Author's website: <http://www.squidge.org/~nat1228/jagjungle.htm>  
Pet Fly and Paramount own the copyright to The Sentinel and its characters. This piece of fan fiction was written solely for the love of the characters and to share freely with other fans. No profit is being made from the posting of this story.  
  
To my intrepid betas, Mary and Bobbie, my many and undying thanks. I also want to give credit for the bulk of the "episode" part of this story to David L. Newman, who wrote "Siege," and to the team of PetFly and Paramount who own the copyright to the script. I have lifted much of the story and dialogue intact, although I've changed a few things around to suit this AU. Mr. Newman deserves the bulk of the credit for these scenes, despite my mangling of them. <g> Also, a nod of sincere thanks to Becky, whose transcripts I relied heavily upon to write this story.  
  
Additional warning: smarm  
This story is a sequel to: Chosen 4: Survival

* * *

"You're going to love it, Jim!" Blair enthused as they rode up in the elevator on their way to the Major Crime Unit the day after their wedding. "Sand, surf... a tropical paradise, all to ourselves. We can go native there, run around naked, hunt and forage for food --" 

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Jim said with a grin, patting Blair's shoulder. "Should be a really relaxing vacation." 

"And perfect for you," Blair added. "The isolation of the place will be exactly what you need to refresh and restore your senses. In tribal cultures, the Sentinel was sent on an annual retreat -- somewhere isolated and alone, to hone his senses. This is the _perfect_ Sentinel retreat." 

"All I want to do is eat, sleep, and fuck your brains out for two weeks," Jim said, chuckling. "It's our honeymoon, after all." The elevator doors opened and the two men stepped out. "All I need to do is talk to Simon and finish a little paperwork, and then we can go home and pack." 

"Let's get this show on the road, then," Blair said, following Jim into Major Crime. 

+++++ 

Behind the Sentinel and Guide, two uniformed officers entered the department's control room across the hall. Once inside, they closed the door and drew the blinds before pulling out pistols equipped with silencers. They made short work of the personnel, pulling bodies off the chairs and settling in to take over communications. 

+++++ 

Daryl was in the office with Simon when Jim and Blair arrived. 

"Good to see you again, Daryl!" Jim said, reaching out to shake hands with the 14-year-old. "I hear you guys have quite a weekend planned." 

Daryl frowned. "Yeah, right. There's this cool party I want to attend, but Dad..." 

"Now, Daryl, enough of that," Simon cautioned. "We've had this trip planned for quite a while. It's our chance to get to spend some time together." 

"No," Daryl countered. " _You've_ been planning so you don't have to go guilt-trippin' about the divorce and so Mom will get me off her back for the weekend." 

"That's enough," Simon said sternly. "I was hoping to get out of here by noon, but I got a call this morning about a lunch meeting at the mayor's office." 

"You mean I gotta hang here?" Daryl whined. 

"Not to worry," Simon said, pulled a video game from his top drawer. "I got you 'Assault Force 2'." 

"Aw, Dad... I already beat that game!" Daryl took the box, looking disappointed. 

"Yeah, well, this time, try it without the cheat mode, okay?" Simon said, slightly disgruntled that his gift wasn't appreciated. "I shouldn't be too long." 

Blair sidled up to Daryl and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, leading the teenager over to his father's desk and the computer. "Look, don't give your dad a hard time," he said softly. "He's in a tough situation right now, and he's doing his best. Cut him a break, okay?" 

Daryl nodded, quietly opening the box and taking out the video game. 

Blair walked over to join Jim and Simon. The three men stepped out of the office, closing the door behind them. 

"So, where are you and Blair headed for your honeymoon?" Simon asked as they walked through the bullpen. 

Jim grinned at the thought of his spunky Guide and the time they were going to spend alone together. "He's picked some remote island in Samoa," he replied. "Nu-telly, or something like that. We'll have the whole island to ourselves. Sort of a Sentinel retreat." 

"It's Nu'utele Island," Blair corrected, grinning. "I can't wait to get Jim there..." 

"You _are_ going to treat this like a honeymoon, aren't you?" Simon asked Blair with a chuckle. "And not some experiment in Sentinel studies?" 

"I certainly hope so," Jim replied. "Because I've already got plans for strengthening our bond." 

Simon's guffaw of laughter echoed around the room. "Well, you two take care and have a good time," Simon said, thumping Jim's shoulder. 

"I've just got a couple things here at my desk," Jim said, "and then we're taking off." 

"Congratulations again, you two," said Simon, as he turned to head off for his lunch date with the mayor. "See you in three weeks." 

Once Simon was gone, Jim settled at his desk. Joel walked over and greeted the Sentinel and Guide. 

"Congratulations, Jim, Blair. You two make a great couple. I'm surprised you didn't tie the knot sooner." 

"It took me almost losing Blair to realize that I couldn't live without him," Jim replied, glancing up at Blair with a grin. 

"Hey, did you hear about Alton and Morrison?" Joel asked, changing the subject. "They both got life sentences for that ferryboat bombing." 

Jim looked up from his paperwork. "That's only two of them," he said fatalistically. 

"Yeah," Joel replied. "But with the way Garrett Kincaid disappeared, maybe we've seen the last of the Sunrise Patriots." 

"Harrumph." Jim grumbled, then looked up at Taggert. "Right. And maybe the sun won't rise." 

+++++ 

While Jim worked, Blair made his way to the break room for a cup of coffee. Vera, from Personnel, was there, and the two struck up a conversation. Two cups of java later, Jim came looking for his Guide. 

"All done and ready to roll," Jim said, walking into the break room. 

Blair rose and said his good-byes to Vera, then turned to Jim. "Why don't you head downstairs and fire up the truck? I'll be down in five minutes." He grinned at Jim as he gathered the used coffee cups and dropped them in the waste bin. "Sixteen ounces of caffeine is banging on my bladder. I've got to take a bathroom break." 

"All right," Jim conceded. "Just remember to wash your hands when you're finished." 

Blair snorted and shoved Jim out the door ahead of him. "Wise guy! Go get the truck started." 

"I'll meet you out front, in the street," Jim said with a chuckle as he headed for the elevator. 

+++++ 

In the control room, one of the men was working with the fuse box, while the other typed busily on a computer, his eyes glued to the monitor. "Well, that takes care of the Gestapo in the field. Now for the ones in the building." Turning to the PA microphone, the man began his announcement. "Attention, all field units at Central. This is an emergency mobilization. Repeat: This is an emergency mobilization. An airliner has crashed into the Wiseman Water Reclamation Plant just south of the airport. All field personnel in the building are to report to Sergeant Howard at the crash site immediately." 

Outside the control room, officers converged on the corridors, making their way to the garage and leaving for the crash site. As police vehicles swarmed out of the garage, a single, white van made its way in. 

"Start the lock-down," the man at the microphone in the control room ordered. 

Gates closed, sealing off the garage, as a number of men with automatic weapons exited the van. Garrett Kincaid led the small group of Sunrise Patriots, shooting the few officers who still remained in the garage, before entering the building. 

+++++ 

Inside the building, Kincaid and his men herded the remaining employees down the hall. "Keep your hands where I can see them," Kincaid growled. "Move it! Move it!" 

Daryl turned, defiant and angry. "Man, if anything happens to me, you're smoked. My dad's the..." 

"Daryl, please, let's just try to cooperate," Rhonda, Simon's secretary, pleaded. 

"You'd better listen to the pretty lady," Kincaid sneered, shoving them through the doors into Major Crime. 

Down another hallway, a second group of armed Patriots paraded another group of hostages, including Joel Taggert. Taggert saw his chance and attacked the nearest terrorist, nearly overcoming the man with his larger size and strength. A gunshot rang out, and Taggert dropped to the floor, grabbing his thigh. 

"Back off," the gunman growled. "If you weren't a captain, you'd be dead already. Let's go." He helped drag Taggert to his feet and herded his small group into Major Crime behind the first set of hostages. 

+++++ 

Hearing the shot, Blair poked his head out of the restroom door in time to see Joel being supported by two other officers and led by one of Kincaid's men. Quietly closing the door, he looked around. There weren't many places to hide in the small lavatory, but he couldn't go out in the corridor right now. 

Thinking quickly, he entered a stall and, using a technique he had mastered in childhood, braced himself against the metal walls, walking his way up until he could no longer be seen by anyone peeking beneath the door. He braced himself and waited, taking deep breaths to calm the rapid beating of his heart. 

The door to the restroom opened and one of Kincaid's men entered, checking the room. Blair held his breath as the man looked under the stall door without noticing its occupant. 

+++++ 

Kincaid entered the control room and studied the two men there. "Mr. Southern; McBride," he said crisply. "Is the building secure?" 

"Yes, Sir," McBride answered, saluting. "Every entrance is sealed and guarded. The elevators have been disabled." 

"And what about the cops in the field?" Kincaid asked. 

"All units have been diverted, Sir," McBride said. 

Southern spoke up next. "The jammer's operating. We have their communications completely shut down." 

Kincaid smiled and nodded. "Looks like we've got the whole city at our feet." 

+++++ 

Back in Major Crime, the employees huddled, fearful, as the men with guns used duct tape to secure their hands behind them and to cover the mouths of the most vocal. Rhonda knelt next to Joel Taggert, tending his wound as best she could with her meager first aid resources. 

Everyone turned to look as Kincaid entered the room. "Good work, gentlemen. For once we can say that justice will prevail." 

"Score one for the psychopaths," Taggert said, deliberately calling attention to himself and away from the other hostages. 

Kincaid walked over and lifted his foot, stepping down on the bullet wound in Joel's leg. As the police captain groaned, the leader of the Sunrise Patriots sneered. "I can see that bullet in your leg hasn't taught you any manners." 

"He's hurt!" Rhonda protested, rising to her feet. "He needs help." 

"Sit down!" McBride ordered, shoving the secretary down and leveling his gun at her. "And stay put!" 

"Rhonda!" Daryl jumped up from his seat next to Taggert in protest. 

Kincaid, amused at the antics of the young pup, sauntered over and grasped the collar of Daryl's jacket. "Where's your daddy, boy?" 

"Getting ready to kick your ass!" Daryl replied with the bravado of the young and nave. 

+++++ 

Down on the street, Jim had taken notice when the gates closed on the parking garage. He reached for his microphone just as Simon drove up and got out of his car. "This is David 1-5-2 to all patrol units. We have a field emergency. Central is under siege. Unknown number of suspects with assault weapons. Any unit respond Code 3." His radio crackled with the buzz of static. "Damn," he said, turning to Simon. "They've jammed all the channels." 

"I heard the call go out to all units," Simon said, "and I turned around to come back here. When I tried to radio in, I couldn't get through. Something's up." 

"You're telling me," Jim said, getting out of the truck and concentrating his hearing on the building. "It's Garrett Kincaid and his men. They've sealed off the building and cut all outside communication." 

"My God!" Simon yelped, standing up to look up at the windows of his office. "Daryl's up there!" 

"He's fine, Simon," Jim assured him. "Now get down before you get shot!" He reached out to drag his captain back behind the car. 

Simon looked at Jim with irritation and hope. "How can you tell?" 

"I saw him at the window," Jim explained. "He's in the squad room with the other hostages." 

"By now they've got to know he's my kid," Simon said, working his way up to a near frenzy again. 

"Simon!" Jim growled, tugging at the captain to keep him down and out of the line of fire from the windows. "Calm down! He's scared, but he's all right. He needs you to hold it together for him." 

"Yeah, yeah," Simon nodded, visibly regaining his detached calm. "In a hostage situation, if you survive the first assault, you stand a pretty good chance." 

Jim nodded his agreement just as an irritated driver honked his horn. Jim winced, his hearing still dialed up, and focused on Kincaid's men inside the building. 

"Are you okay?" Simon asked, hunkering down next to Jim. 

Jim nodded. "Yeah, I'll be okay. You know, Blair's up there, too," he said, his voice tinged with worry. 

"Have they made any demands yet?" 

"No, nothing yet," Jim said, turning to Simon. "We've got to find a way in there!" 

+++++ 

Blair's legs were getting tired and his muscles trembled with weariness. He longed to get down from his perch in the bathroom toilet stall, but survival instinct kept him pinned against the thin metal walls. 

The sound of the door opening made Blair's breath catch in his throat. Footsteps circled the small room before heading back toward the door. But before the intruder could leave, Blair's legs finally gave out and one foot slipped, flushing the toilet. Grasping the top of the walls with his hands, Blair waited a beat and then struck out toward the stall door with both feet, knocking Kincaid's man unconscious to the floor. 

Dropping down from his perch, Blair tiptoed out of the bathroom and into the deserted hall. He looked around, trying to ascertain the quickest and safest way out, when he heard more footsteps approaching. Panicked and looking for cover, he quickly slipped into the break room and behind a vending machine, mouthing quiet prayers to whatever powers watched over errant Guides to keep him safe. 

+++++ 

Kincaid entered the control room and looked around. "What's up?" he asked Southern. 

The man pointed to a monitor that showed Jim's truck with the Sentinel and Simon Banks crouched down beside it. "I called you as soon as I saw this," Southern said. 

"Poor guy's probably worried sick about that kid of his," Kincaid said, grinning. "That's Ellison with him, isn't it?" 

"Yes, Sir." 

"Gimme that phone." Kincaid held out his hand, waiting for the instrument to be handed to him. "Captain Banks, Garrett Kincaid here." 

Down on the street, Simon grimaced. "All right; you listen to me, Kincaid..." 

"No, you listen," Kincaid replied. "You've lost six people already -- casualties of war. Unavoidable. Your man, Taggert, is wounded and losing blood fast. And that boy of yours, God love him, needs to learn to have a little respect for his elders." 

Simon glanced at Jim, who was listening in on the conversation, before focusing his attention on the windows six floors up. "I swear, if you do anything to hurt him..." 

"Shut up!" Kincaid snapped. "In twenty-eight minutes, a helicopter's going to land on the roof of your city jail. Two of my men, Morrison and Alton, are P.O.W.s there. You _will_ release them. In thirty-three minutes, that chopper will touch down on the roof of this building. If my men are not on that chopper, you're going to have a hell of a lot more people to bury." 

"You want my cooperation," Simon said, "we'll need the release of some hostages as a sign of good will." 

"Sending one out right now," Kincaid said. 

Jim and Simon looked up as a window was shot out and two men brought a struggling Daryl over. 

_"Hey, wait, wait,"_ Jim could hear Daryl's protests. _"Get the hell off me. What are you doing? Get off me! Help!"_

"Oh no," Jim whispered. 

"Kincaid, I want those people kept safe up there," Simon warned. His head jerked up when he heard Daryl's voice at the open window. 

"Dad, help me! Dammit, let go of me! Help!" 

Their eyes widened in horror as two men took the struggling boy and lowered him out the window, head first, holding him by the legs. 

"Oh my God," Simon gasped, the full extent of Kincaid's madness finally apparent to him. "Kincaid, are you still there?" he asked, over the screams for help from his son. 

"I'm right here, Captain Banks," came the smooth voice of the Sunrise Patriot. 

"I'll be talking with the Governor in a minute," Simon responded. 

"Good," said Kincaid. "Now, I don't want any police, SWAT, National Guard, Salvation Army. I don't want anybody showing up," he demanded. "'Cause, if they do, I'll have to start killing more sworn agents of the United States. Am I making myself clear? And I'll tell you something, Captain -- I've got a whole roomful to choose from." 

Simon swallowed and nodded. "I understand," he said into the phone. Looking up, he saw Daryl being dragged back inside the building and he sighed with relief. 

+++++ 

Simon hung up the phone after talking with the Governor, and shook his head. "She won't authorize the release of the prisoners," he said. "Captain Lomax from Tacoma is going to send in a force to intercept the helicopter at the Cascade jail. Meanwhile, the Governor plans on sending in the National Guard." 

"Wonderful," Jim said, shaking his head. "So, in less than twenty-five minutes, Kincaid will realize that his men aren't going to be freed, and then the Guard arrives. Either event is enough to send that psycho off on a killing spree." 

"We've got to get into that building somehow," Simon mused. "But they've got it locked down tight." 

Jim turned to the vendor in the small snack shop next to where they huddled. "You have a fax machine, don't you, Tom?" 

"Sure do," Tom responded. "Doesn't everyone these days?" 

Jim turned to Simon. "I'll have Public Works fax over a map of the sewer system within a four-block radius of the station." 

Simon nodded his agreement. 

+++++ 

Blair didn't know how long he had remained hidden behind the vending machine, but he wasn't willing to come out with the building swarming with hostiles, and Jim outside and separated from him. All he could think about was how much he loved his new husband and how badly he wanted to spend carefree time on a deserted beach with him. 

Footsteps rang in the hall. Blair tensed as someone came into the break room and put money into the vending machine. When the stubborn device refused to give up its snacks, the man began to swear, beating the machine with his fists. Then shots rang out. In his terror, Blair pushed the vending machine over on top of the man and took off down the hall. 

+++++ 

"How's Van Dyke?" Kincaid asked. 

"We're still trying to bring him around," a man called Nolan said. "The bogie knocked him out real good with that vending machine." 

"I want the intruder found... now!" Kincaid exploded. 

"Yes, Sir!" Nolan saluted and hurried out of the room. 

+++++ 

Jim and Simon pried a manhole cover from the middle of the street and lowered themselves into the sewer system. Jim stopped about halfway down the ladder, overcome by the stench. 

"Come on, Jim! Get a move on!" Simon said, signaling from further down the sewer. 

"Ugh! Just a minute," Jim said. "Gotta get my sense of smell under control. It's harder without Blair here." 

"Pull it together, fast!" Simon said. "We need to get inside that building." 

Taking a minute, Jim concentrated on his dials, turning his sense of smell way, way down. When Blair was beside him, the technique was effortless, but now, alone, Jim had to struggle to accomplish the routine task. Finally, he was able to breathe and followed Simon down the tunnels connecting the police building to the city's main sewer system. 

The maps were outdated, and the men took several wrong turns before Jim stopped, reaching out to halt Simon with a hand on the man's shoulder. "I smell gasoline," he said. 

Simon harrumphed. "How can you smell anything over this stench?" he wondered. 

"Look, where's the nearest gas station?" Jim asked, gagging at the stench now that he'd dialed his sense of smell a few notches higher. 

"There aren't any..." Simon began. "Wait! The pumps in the garage!" he said. "We must be right under the parking structure." 

They made their way to the nearest ladder and came up slowly into the garage. Simon hopped out first, ducking behind some cars for cover. A motion to his right caught his attention. He barely had time to shout to Jim before one of Kincaid's men stepped out of the stairwell and opened fire on the Sentinel, hitting him in the chest. Simon fired off two rapid shots, taking out the gunman and the security camera. 

Jim stood up, dusting himself off. 

"Looked like a good catch, Jim," Simon said, as his detective walked over to him. 

"Yeah," Jim said, taking one of the assault weapons from Simon. "Right to the vest." 

A radio on the dead man's shoulder crackled to life. "McBride, those better be our guns I hear," came Kincaid's voice. 

"Yes, Sir," McBride answered. "That was our old buddy, Ellison, trying to be a hero. Jennings took him out, but we lost our video in the fire fight." 

"That's all right," Kincaid said. "Good work, Jennings." 

Simon shrugged and picked up the microphone. "Thank you, Sir!" he acknowledged before heading to the door and entering the building, followed closely by Jim. 

+++++ 

Nolan turned to Kincaid. "Commander, I've got Walters on the ground-to-air. We have a problem." 

"Talk to me, Walters," Kincaid commanded, frowning as he listened to his man relay the bad news. 

"I'm circling the jail, Commander. No sign of Alton, Morrison, or anyone," Walters reported, the loud chop of the copter blades sounding in the background. "I've got company! There's a police chopper on my rear," Walters shouted over the noise. 

"Take defensive action, Walters!" Kincaid commanded. 

"Direct hit, Sir," Walters said. "Direct hit. They're down." 

"Kincaid, you're insane!" Taggert said, unable to keep quiet any longer. 

"Relative to what, Captain?" Kincaid asked with cool demeanor. 

Nolan turned to his leader. "We're ready to launch, Sir." 

"Do it," Kincaid ordered. 

Nolan used a small missile launcher to shoot a round at the building across the street. The missile impacted, causing the nearest corner of the building to collapse. 

Down on the first floor of the building, Simon turned to Jim. "What the hell was that?" 

"Kincaid just found out that he's not getting what he wants," Jim said coolly, heading for the elevators. 

They managed to pry open the elevator doors, but they weren't operating. 

"We'll take the stairs," Simon said, heading toward the stairwell. He tried the door, but it was locked. "I've got the key," he said. 

Jim pressed a palm against the door, near the jam. "It won't do any good," he announced. "The door has been welded shut. It's still warm." 

Simon reached up to feel, and shook his head. The door felt cool to him. Once again, he marveled at the Sentinel and thanked his lucky stars that he had Ellison working on his side. 

Jim had disappeared while Simon ruminated, returning with a police motorcycle from the garage. As he began breaking the cycle down, Simon's cell phone rang. 

"No, Kincaid hasn't called back," Simon said in answer to the Governor's question. "With your permission, I'd like to continue our efforts here," he said after a pause. "Thank you. Good-bye." He hung up and tucked the phone in his pocket. "If we're not successful here, the Governor has decided to release Kincaid's men." 

"Then we'd better get busy," Jim said. He strung some wire from the cannibalized motorcycle that sat in front of the stairwell door. "Do you have the battery?" he asked Simon. 

"Yeah. Let's use the elevators for cover," Simon suggested, moving back toward the bank of elevators and forcing open the doors of one. 

The two men backed into the elevator, crouching down. 

+++++ 

Upstairs, Blair had made his way into an empty office. Leaning against the closed door, he tried measured breathing to get his racing heart under control. Once he had managed to calm down, he went to the window and looked out. Just outside and down one floor, was a window cleaner's rig. Needing to get out, he spotted a marble ball decorating the desk. Silently asking forgiveness for his next action, he picked up the heavy object and pitched it at the window, breaking out the glass. He quickly brushed the broken glass off the sill with his sleeve and eased out. 

Damn! Blair hated heights. It flashed through his mind just how much, recently, he'd been forced to face this particular phobia. First, it had been jumping out of a plane to parachute into the jungles of Peru. More recently, he'd been thrown off the top of a waterfall. Now, he contemplated dropping to the narrow platform and hoping he hit it, instead of falling several stories to the hard pavement below. Taking a deep breath, he lowered himself as far as his arms permitted and then let go, dropping onto the platform. 

His relief in escaping was short lived, however. One of Kincaid's men was on the roof, aiming a gun his way. Blair flinched as the shot went off, grazing his arm. He crouched down on the platform, trying to avoid any further gunfire. The next shot hit the cable and Blair held on for dear life as the platform plummeted a full story before coming to a stop in front of a window with two armed men. Raising his hands in surrender, Blair knew he'd lost the battle. 

+++++ 

"Well, well, who do we have here?" Kincaid asked, as his men escorted Blair into the room with the rest of the hostages. "Are you the mole that took out two of my men? In this militia, that's a capital offense," he said, raising his gun and pointing it in Blair's face. 

"Hey, man, you don't want to do that, believe me," Blair said, summoning his bravado and trying to keep a straight face. "I'm worth more to you as a live hostage than a dead body." 

"What makes you think your sorry ass is worth anything to anybody?" Kincaid sneered. 

"Banks sent me in," Blair bluffed, knowing that as long as he could keep the man talking, he'd stay alive. 

"You're a cop?" Kincaid asked, disbelieving. "I don't think so. You're... you're a... Guide!" he spat, pulling Blair close until the two of them were nose to nose. 

"Commander!" Nolan interrupted, carrying over a portable briefcase phone. "It's Walters, Sir." 

"Go, Walters," Kincaid said crisply. 

"They just brought out our P.O.W.s. I'm dropping down to retrieve them, Sir." 

"Good work, Walters. Sometimes all it takes is a little persuasion." Kincaid hung up the phone and turned his attention back to Blair. "It looks like the execution is off," he said, lowering his gun. "I guess I could use a good Guide." 

As they stood nose-to-nose again, a shudder wracked Blair's body as he realized the awful truth about Kincaid. The man was an unattached Sentinel, and he wanted Blair as his Guide... 

+++++ 

"I think Officer Jackson will be needing a new ride," Jim said as he touched two wires together and the motorcycle blew up, blasting open the door to the stairwell. 

"Let's get upstairs," Simon said, starting into the stairwell. 

Jim shouldered his way past, turning to his Captain. "I'm the Sentinel, Sir. Let me go first." He turned and headed up the stairs, with Simon following behind. When they reached the sixth floor, Jim stopped at the door to listen. After a minute, he turned to Simon. "All clear." He opened the door and eased his way through, heading for the command room. 

+++++ 

"This is it," Kincaid said. "We'll evacuate as planned. Mr. Natural, here, is coming with me." He dragged Blair to his feet and bound his wrists with duct tape before leading him to the door. 

+++++ 

"They're planning to evacuate," Jim said, as Simon typed in a message for all units to return to Central. 

"You can hear that?" Simon asked, still amazed after several weeks of knowing the man. 

"Shhh..." Jim said, cocking his head to listen. 

+++++ 

"This is victory, gentlemen," Kincaid addressed his men. "We'll rendezvous at Camp Liberty as planned. All right? Congratulations, guys. I'm proud of all of you. Now, move out. Southern, McBride... you two stay here." 

Southern looked perplexed. "Why, Sir?" 

"Nolan will pick you up downstairs as planned," Kincaid explained. "It shouldn't take more than thirty seconds to execute these hostages." 

"Captain," Southern protested. "We never talked about killing the hostages." 

"This is war," Kincaid said coldly. "There are no prisoners. There are no witnesses. You know that." He grabbed Blair's arm and began to haul him out into the hall and toward the stairs to the roof. 

"Why am I being singled out?" Blair asked, sure he already knew the answer. 

"Because I need a Guide, and I've chosen you," Kincaid sneered. "I can't wait until this is over. If I had the time, I'd fuck you right here and now." He dragged Blair across the roof and toward the waiting helicopter. 

+++++ 

"You know," Joel spoke up to the remaining Patriots, "Kincaid's leaving you here to fry." 

"Shut up!" McBride barked. "Everyone face the windows. I don't want to see any faces." He and Southern cocked their guns just as Jim and Simon burst in. 

"Drop your weapons!" Jim ordered. 

The two men turned around to face the newcomers. "I don't think so!" McBride shouted, keeping his gun aimed at Jim. 

Joel surged forward, tackling Southern from behind and knocking the gun from the man's grasp, before knocking him out. Taking his cue from the Captain, Daryl jumped on McBride, wrapping his legs around the man's waist and his arms around McBride's throat. 

"I got him, Dad!" Daryl shouted triumphantly. 

"Daryl, no!" Simon cried out, moving forward to punch out McBride just as the man was swinging Daryl off his back and preparing to hit the boy. 

The other officers in the room moved forward and disarmed the two unconscious men, while the other hostages all breathed large sighs of relief. 

"Rhonda, will you take care of Daryl until we're done here?" Simon asked his secretary, who nodded and smiled. "Daryl, you stay here with Rhonda. Do you hear me?" Daryl nodded reluctantly, ready for more action now that he'd tasted the adrenaline rush. 

"I'm headed upstairs," Jim announced, hurrying out the door and running to the stairwell, taking the stairs two at a time in his rush to reach Kincaid and his Guide. 

+++++ 

"I'm already chosen!" Blair protested, as Kincaid pushed him across the roof toward the helicopter. "I'm already bonded to a Sentinel. Nothing you can do will break that bond." 

"We'll see about that," Kincaid said, leering at the slender Guide. "I'm certainly going to have a good time trying." He shoved Blair into the waiting copter and slid in beside him, closing the door. 

Blair's eyes widened as he saw Jim burst onto the roof, running toward the helicopter. "Jim! Jim!" he shouted over the noise of the rotors. "Help me! Jim!" 

As the helicopter lifted off the roof, Jim jumped, hooking an arm over a strut. 

"Something's wrong," Walter's reported to Kincaid. "We're pulling to the right." 

Kincaid looked out the window to see Jim struggling to stay with the helicopter. "Looks like we've got ourselves a stowaway," he said. "Lose him, Walters!" 

"Hold on!" Walters said, banking steeply, while making sudden and unpredictable turns. 

Shaken, Jim reached for his handcuffs, cuffing himself to the strut before swinging a leg up and over for more support. 

"Well, I guess he just doesn't want to let go," Kincaid said, opening the door and pointing his gun down at Jim. 

Jim reached for the weapon, coming up short. 

Inside the helicopter, Blair saw his chance and threw his whole body into pushing Kincaid out the door. 

As Kincaid fell, Jim reached out to grab him. He managed to slow Kincaid's tumble from the copter, and the man grabbed at Jim's leg, holding on for dear life. 

"Take us back, now!" Jim shouted to the pilot. 

"No!" Kincaid protested. "You'll have to kill me first!" 

"Have it your way," Jim said, shaking his leg, trying to dislodge Kincaid's grip. 

"Walters!" Kincaid shouted. "Get this thing back now!" 

"He's nuts if he thinks I'm flying into that dragnet," Walters muttered, steering the helicopter out over the bay. 

In the back seat, Blair had discovered a box of flares when Kincaid took his header out of the copter. He now moved forward, pointing a flare gun at Walters. "Take us back, now," he shouted. "You hear me?" 

"Yeah," Walters said, confident that Blair was merely bluffing. "Kill me and we _all_ go down, buddy." 

"I don't think so," Blair said, still holding the flare gun steady at Walter's head. "I flew Apaches in Desert Storm. Now turn it around!" 

Reluctantly, Walters turned the helicopter around and landed on the roof of the police station. From there, Simon and his men rounded up Kincaid and Walters, along with the other Sunrise Patriots that they'd arrested earlier. 

Jim unlocked the handcuffs holding him to the strut, and hurried to help Blair down from the copter, pulling him into his arms and kissing him soundly. "God, Chief! I was so worried about you!" he said, stealing another quick kiss. "Did you really fly Apaches in Desert Storm? Why didn't you say something before?" 

"It's a long story," Blair said, backing out of Jim's embrace and holding out his still-bound hands. "Care to help me with this?" 

Simon sauntered over to the Sentinel and Guide, a broad smile on his face. "Congratulations, you two. You damn near single-handedly brought down Kincaid and his Sunrise Patriots. I think you've earned that vacation of yours. Enjoy yourselves." 

"We intend to," Jim said with a wink, as he wrapped an arm around Blair and headed for the elevator. 

+++++ 

After a nearly twenty hour flight, Jim and Blair arrived on Samoa, via a stop in Sydney, Australia. They were met by their EcoTour guide and taken to their accommodations on the island. 

"It is customary for visitors to Nu'utele Island to have a course in island survival," Martin, their guide, informed them. 

"Well, thank you, Martin," Jim replied, "but I don't think that will be necessary. I'm an ex-Army Ranger and I've been trained to survive on my own with little or no resources. My Guide, here, is an anthropologist who spent eighteen months living with the primitive Chopec tribe in Peru. I think we're well equipped for our two weeks." 

"Then get your rest," Martin suggested. "The boat to Nu'utele will leave at 5:00 a.m. tomorrow." 

+++++ 

The beautiful blue water sparkled in the early morning sun as the boat approached the pristine white beach of Nu'utele Island. Martin drove the boat into the shallow water and the three men jumped out, dragging the boat up onto the beach. 

Martin led the way up the beach and back away from the water to the tree line, where the island's forest began. Tucked beneath the sheltering palms was a small hut. The building was sturdy, its thatched roof well maintained. There was no door, nor glass in the open windows. Inside were two comfortable looking cots with mosquito netting draped from the ceiling, and little else. Farther back, into the trees, was an old-fashioned outhouse. 

"This is a traditional fale," Martin explained. "This will be your only accommodation or luxury. I am leaving you a machete, flint to start your fires, a cooking pot to boil your drinking water, and two sets of snorkeling gear. You will hunt and gather all your food from the island's resources." He handed Jim a small two-way radio. "This is for emergency use only. Call if you need me to come and pick you up early. If not, I will see you fifteen days from today." 

"Thank you," Jim said, taking the radio. "You promised we'd be alone for the entire two weeks," he stated, checking to be sure everything was as he'd planned. 

"Yes, Sir. Normally, we bring people out here up to four times a week, with each stay lasting only a few, short days," Martin explained. "But you have paid handsomely for your privacy. No one will disturb you," he promised. "The island is a 'no fly' zone for charter or recreational flights, and no boats will come within viewing range. You will be completely isolated here, as you wished." 

"This is going to be great, man!" Blair said, beaming as he looked around at the natural beauty surrounding them. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "I can hardly wait to get started!" 

"I will leave you now," Martin said with a nod. "The equipment you'll need to survive is inside the fale. Good luck!" 

Jim and Blair watched as the man pushed the small boat back out into the placid waters of the bay and started the small outboard engine. As the boat motored off toward the open sea, Martin turned to wave at the castaways. 

"Wow," Blair said, looking around. "Where do you suggest we start?" 

"I think with a walk around the island, or at least our immediate area," Jim suggested. "We need to find a source of fresh water. There's bound to be one nearby or they wouldn't have put the fale here." He started off up the beach, keeping to the tree line. They walked about half a mile before turning back and walking a half mile down the beach in the opposite direction. 

Having familiarized themselves with their immediate coastline, they headed inland through the lush forest. 

"Looks like we have coconuts, bananas, papayas..." Blair said, looking around. 

"There's manioc root, too," Jim added, pointing out the plant. "I hear the water," he announced a short while later. 

They continued into the forest, finally coming upon a small spring-fed stream. "This is it," Jim said, admiring the beauty of the area as he cast out his senses to survey their surroundings. "There's quite a bit of wildlife here, too. With some luck, we may be able to snare ourselves some meat." 

"Anything in particular?" Blair asked, looking around at the abundant vegetation. 

Jim nodded. "Wild pig, for one," he said. "We'd have to weave a net to snare one, though." 

"There are plenty of straight, sturdy branches for making spears, too," Blair noted. "We'll need a spear or pole if we're going to catch fish." 

"Let's gather some coconuts and fruit on our way back," said Jim. "We can have ourselves a light lunch, and the coconut shells can be saved to use as bowls or cups." 

"One of us should come back here for water," Blair suggested. 

"I'll do that. You collect some wood and kindling for the fire," Jim directed. 

They headed back to the beach, stopping to pick coconuts and papayas on their way. Once back at the fale, Jim took the cooking pot and headed back to the spring, while Blair foraged for wood. By the time Jim was back with the water, Blair had a fire going in a pit he'd dug in the sand not far from their shelter. 

Jim put the pot of water into the fire to boil and picked up the machete to crack open the coconuts. The two men feasted on the fruits of the forest, eating their fill. 

"I vote for going snorkeling this afternoon," said Blair. "I think some fish, roasted in banana leaves over the coals of the fire, would make a delicious dinner." 

"Can't argue with you there," Jim agreed. "But we shouldn't go out in the water so soon after our meal." 

"Have any suggestions for the meantime?" Blair asked with a grin. 

Jim nodded, returning the smile. "Well, it _is_ our honeymoon," he said. 

"I suggest we pull a blanket off one of the cots and head for that little cove up north," Blair said. "It's got a nice stretch of beach, and the rocks will offer some protection from the wind." He stood up and began to head toward the fale. 

"You're suggesting we make love on the beach?" Jim asked, his smile broadening as he rose to follow his mate. 

"Why not?" Blair replied, waggling his eyebrows. "We've got this whole place to ourselves. We can run around naked all the time, if we want." He busied himself stripping the blanket from a cot and folding it. 

"Oh, I like that idea, Chief!" Jim said, disrobing and folding his clothes, laying them on the other cot. "What are you waiting for?" 

Grinning, Blair undressed, folding his clothes and laying them next to Jim's. They walked out onto the beach naked, the sun warming their skin. It was only a short stroll, north, up the shoreline to the sheltered cove Blair had selected. They spread the blanket and sat down, the sand warm beneath them. 

"You're beautiful," Jim said, reaching up to caress Blair's cheek, admiring how the sunlight shone through the cloud of curls, giving his Guide a burnished auburn halo. 

Blair blushed. "I'm white as a sheet," he protested. "All that time in Cascade did nothing for my tan." 

"We'll take care of that while we're here," Jim promised, caressing a shoulder and allowing his hand to slip down and tweak a taut nipple. "I have every intention of us both getting a fabulous, all-over tan during the next two weeks." 

"You're a wicked man, Jim Ellison," Blair teased, reaching up to pull Jim's head down to his, kissing his Sentinel deeply and with passion. 

They dropped onto the blanket, tangled in each other's arms. When the kiss ended, both men were hard and aching, needing the connection of the bond immediately. Blair pushed up onto his hands and knees, eagerly offering himself. The sight of the dilated anus, ready to accept him, excited the Sentinel's baser instincts. The need to copulate, to claim, overwhelmed him and he mounted his Guide, pounding furiously into the willing body. Blair's groans of passion egged him on until, with a cry of completion, he filled the pliant body with his seed. 

Blair collapsed beneath him and rolled, leaving Jim spooned against the smooth skin of his Guide's back. Reaching over one slender hip, Jim grasped the still-hard cock of his lover and began to pull at it gently. Blair moaned, and Jim began to pepper his shoulder and neck with light kisses. 

"You're so good for me, Baby. Love you," Jim murmured as he continued to stroke the swollen cock. 

"Aw, Jiiim," Blair moaned, arching into Jim's hand to put more pressure on his aching member. 

Jim felt the arteries pulse in the solid column of flesh that he held just before Blair convulsed with the power of his orgasm, spraying them both with sticky cream. 

"Jim?" Blair's voice was soft. "Aw, God, Jim... I love you." 

"Don't you go to sleep on me now," Jim cautioned. "We'd both end up baked. How about we take a swim? Get ourselves cleaned up a little?" 

Blair looked up with sleepy eyes. "After that fucking, you expect me to swim?" 

Jim chuckled and stood, reaching down to take Blair's hand and haul him to his feet. "It'll refresh you, wake you up. Come on." He led Blair to the water's edge, just a few feet away from where they'd made love. The water was warm, a clear aqua blue that deepened as the sand sloped gently away from the beach into the deeper water of the quiet bay. 

Soon, the two men were treading water, circling each other and laughing. Fish brushed by them, swimming between their legs. Blair broke free of Jim's light embrace and jack-knifed into a surface dive that took him several feet beneath the surface. His sleek body almost reminded Jim of a dolphin, frolicking in the water. Diving, he joined his Guide, fascinated by the number and variety of fish so close to shore. 

When their lungful of air ran out, they surfaced, shaking the water from their eyes. 

Blair wiped his wet curls away from his face and grinned. "I think we should go back and get the snorkeling equipment," he suggested. "Maybe make ourselves some spears for fishing. What do you think?" 

"I think it sounds like a fine idea," Jim agreed. 

They made their way back to the fale, dropping off the blanket and picking up the snorkeling gear. 

"I have a couple of good sticks out by the fire that I saved, just in case," Blair said, leading the way out to where their fire was burning low. He tossed on more wood, and then picked up the two, straight branches. "What do you think?" 

Jim grabbed the machete and took one of the sticks, quickly whittling a sharp point on one end. "I think they'll do just fine," he said, handing the sharpened stick to Blair. "Give me the other one." 

Soon, they were making their way back out into the sparkling water, this time armed with face masks, snorkels, fins, and their two makeshift spears. The water was crystal clear, clouded only by the sand the two men stirred up as they dived, looking for their dinner. Tropical fish swam around them in colorful schools, but Jim was looking for something a little larger. 

A parrotfish swam past. Jim's sharp eyes and quick reflexes soon had the struggling fish on the end of his spear. Handing the speared fish to Blair, Jim took the other spear and paddled a bit farther out. A species of snapper was his next target. 

The two men swam back to shore with their catch. Blair took a short walk into the forest to the nearest banana tree to gather some of the green fruits and the leaves. Coming back to the fire, he found Jim busily gutting and filleting their catch. 

"We need to bank the fire and let it die down," Blair said, taking the fillets and wrapping them in the banana leaves, along with the peeled, green bananas. "I'll tuck these under the coals to bake. Half an hour should do it, just about, I'd think. You're going to love the bananas, too." 

"How about some papaya while we wait?" Jim suggested, cutting a fruit in half and handing a share to his Guide. Blair bit into the sweet flesh, the juice running down his chin. "Here, let me take care of that for you," Jim said, sidling over next to Blair and leaning in to lick the juice from his chin. 

"Oh, God, Jim," Blair moaned, weakly protesting the Sentinel's advance. "You're going to get me started again." 

"And why not?" Jim asked, his tongue leaving a wet trail down Blair's jaw to his neck and shoulder. His hand reached up to tweak a nipple, drawing a gasp of arousal from his Guide. "This _is_ our honeymoon, after all." 

"It's also supposed to be a retreat for you," Blair argued softly. "Time away from civilization to hone your senses." 

"Oh, I'm honing them all right now," Jim said, pushing Blair down to the sand and finding a hard teat with his mouth. His teeth tugged at the erect nub, teasing it, as his hand reached down to encourage the burgeoning cock. "Trust me. Every sense is finely tuned and operating at peak efficiency." 

"Jiiim," Blair protested again, this time finding it harder to resist his lover's advance. "The sand, man. We're still wet, and the blanket..." 

"Then we'll fuck in the surf," Jim said, standing and dragging Blair to his feet. He led his Guide onto the gentle slope of the beach where the waves washed in, white and foamy. He knelt in the shallow water, lowering Blair to the sand. Lifting his lover's knees with his elbows, Jim waited for the ebb and flow of the surf to rinse the sand from Blair's ass, clearing the way for Jim to enter. 

"In your lap, Jim!" Blair sputtered as Jim entered him and another wave swept in to wash over them. "Or I'll drown!" Jim dropped Blair's legs, allowing his lover to wrap the strong limbs around his hips as he bent forward to embrace Blair and lift him into his lap. 

Blair rested his palms on Jim's shoulders, rising off the hard shaft and then lowering himself back down. He moved slowly, relishing the feel of the hard cock moving inside him. Arching his back, Blair brought his own aching penis in contact with Jim's firm abs. As he moved, flesh rubbed against flesh, drawing a moan of passion from the young Guide. Throwing his head back, his hair hanging down and brushing the incoming surf, Blair abandoned himself to the sensations as his body picked up speed, pistoning faster as his arousal spiraled up toward its ultimate climax. 

Jim shuddered as the warm water of the surf broke over them and Blair began to move faster. He had given over control to his Guide, and found himself helpless against the rising tide of passion that knotted his gut. A primal roar burst from his throat, melding with Blair's cry as both men climaxed together. 

Blair let go with his legs, allowing himself to slip off Jim's lap. Kneeling, he rose to embrace the Sentinel, capturing the waiting lips with a gentle kiss as the surf rolled in to wash them clean. 

Rising, Blair took Jim's hand. "I think the fish should be done by now. That little workout really gave me an appetite!" They walked hand-in-hand up the beach to the fire. 

The sun was beginning to go down on their first day on the island. They dug the leaf-wrapped fish and bananas from beneath the coals, and Jim put on more wood, bringing the fire back up to a blaze. The two men sat side-by-side, watching the brilliant colors of the sunset. 

"It's getting chilly," Blair said, goose bumps pimpling his skin as he licked his fingers. "Clouds are coming in, too." 

"The barometric pressure has dropped," Jim confirmed. "I can feel it. We're going to have a storm tonight." 

As they finished the last of their meal, gentle raindrops began to fall, chasing the Sentinel and Guide into the shelter of the fale. 

"I'm thinking about getting dressed," Blair declared, lifting his clothing from the bed. "I'm cold." The sound of the rain on the thatched roof picked up tempo, until a torrent blacked out the remaining light and extinguished their campfire. 

Jim took the clothes and set them on the floor next to their combined beds. "Nothing is better for staying warm than good old-fashioned body heat," he said with a grin. Holding up the blankets, he urged Blair into bed and then lay down beside him, covering them both. Gathering his Guide in his arms, he snuggled close, pressing bare skin to bare skin. "There, how's that?" 

"Mmmm... nice," Blair agreed, and then yawned. "Sorry. It's been a long day." 

"How about we take a walk to that crater rim tomorrow?" Jim suggested. "Martin said it's a fairly easy hike, and the view is spectacular. 

"Sounds good," Blair agreed. "'Night, Jim." 

"Good-night, Chief." 

+++++ 

The next morning, Blair put on his athletic shoes to go check out the surrounding tidal rocks. He took a sturdy stick and his shirt with him. 

"Where are you going, Chief?" Jim asked as Blair started out. 

"Going to see if I can find us something for breakfast other than coconuts and papayas," Blair answered, waving as he walked off. 

Jim grinned and watched him go, admiring the shapely curve of the rounded ass as it swayed with each step his Guide took. He finally tore himself away from the view to go in search of some dry wood to start the fire. While it had rained heavily the night before, now the sun was out and the sky was a clear blue once more. It was a chore, scrounging for kindling and wood dry enough to burn, but Jim eventually got the fire roaring once more. Taking the cooking pot, he headed back into the trees to get the morning's water. 

Meanwhile, Blair picked his way carefully over the rocks, occasionally bending to pry an oyster or muscle from its perch in a tidal crevice and add it to the growing pile on his shirt. Finally satisfied, he gathered the corners of his shirt to carry the shellfish back to their camp. On the way, he noticed the blow holes of some clams in the sand and stopped to dig about a dozen from their nests with his stick. By the time he arrived back at the fire, Jim already had the water boiling and had extracted some for drinking, which he had set aside to cool. 

Blair set his shirt down and opened it to reveal the rewards of his morning's work. "I thought we could save the fishing for this afternoon," he said, taking the machete to pry open an oyster and popping the morsel into his mouth. 

"Need a little something to get going this morning?" Jim teased. "I worked you pretty hard yesterday." 

"Ha-ha," Blair mocked. "Like I need help when you're around. I brought some for you, too, big guy." He reached out to pat Jim's penis, which twitched with interest at the touch. 

"Give me that," Jim said, taking the machete and prying open an oyster. 

Blair chuckled as he watched the Sentinel down three of the shellfish, as he prepared the clams and muscles, tossing them into the boiling water to cook. 

After breakfast, they stood and stretched, each noting that the other was sporting wood. "Walk it off?" Blair asked, referring to their plans to visit the crater rim that day. "Or should we do something about it now?" The look in Jim's eyes was all the Guide needed to see. He grinned and turned his back, bending over to present himself to his Sentinel. 

The sex was swift but satisfying. Both men knew they had the rest of the day to savor each other. And so, wearing only their shoes to protect their feet against the sharp lava rock, they began their half-day trek through the pristine forest to the base of the volcanic crater. 

The slope up was fairly gentle, and the trail left by other castaways was clear and easy to follow. True to the promise, the view from the crater's rim was magnificent. Blue water and lush green forest spread out in front and behind them, separated by a strip of bright, white sand. 

"This is so awesome," Blair said, his voice nearly stolen from him by the sight. "And we have it all to ourselves for two weeks. I still can't believe it." He stood on the rim and shook his head. 

"It's what you wanted," Jim said, coming up behind Blair and wrapping his arms around his Guide. "'The perfect Sentinel retreat,' I believe were your exact words." 

"It is," Blair agreed. "I just never dreamed we could really do this. It's going to be hard going back to civilization." 

Jim laughed, the sound echoing around the lip of the huge caldera. "Going native on me, are you? Not that I mind, of course," he added, stroking taut nipples with his thumbs and drinking in the scent of his Guide. He bent his head to nuzzle beneath the hair behind Blair's left ear. 

Blair's laughter joined Jim's as he turned around, his erect cock bumping against Jim's thigh. "I don't remember any of the Profs at Rainier mentioning that a Sentinel on retreat is continuously horny. You're insatiable, man! But this time, I think it's my turn, don't you?" 

"Anything you say, Chief," Jim agreed, continuing to nuzzle Blair's shoulder, nipping lightly, but firmly enough to leave a mark. 

"Not here," Blair said, gently pushing Jim to arm's length. "There's nothing up here but cinders and rock. Let's go back to our camp, where we can take our time and be comfortable." 

They began to pick their way carefully back down the gentle slope and then began the walk back through the forest. It was beginning to get dark under the canopy of the trees when they neared the spring that supplied their water. Stopping to splash away some of the dust of the trip, they were startled when a wild pig grunted and squealed at them from the opposite bank. 

"Before we leave here," Jim proclaimed, "I want some pork." 

"How do you propose we catch one?" Blair asked, starting back up the trail to their campsite. 

"I've seen plenty of material for making rope," Jim replied. "We could make ourselves a net and set a trap. Once we have a pig captured, it should be easy enough to kill it with the machete." 

"Not me," Blair said, shaking his head and holding out his hands. "Those tusks look wicked. But I'll help with the net. It might be nice having a break from nothing but seafood and fruit." 

"Speaking of which," Jim said, "we should snorkel out and catch some dinner before we have our nookie. Otherwise, it'll be getting too dark." 

"You're probably right," Blair agreed. His erection had faded on the walk back, anyway, so he had no objections to catching dinner before catching Jim. 

Once the fish were stashed under the coals to cook, Blair turned to his mate. "I think you offered tonight?" he said, standing and taking Jim's hand. "I'm looking forward to this. How about the cots, under the mosquito netting? I've already got enough bites. I don't need to attract more." 

They retired to the fale, crawling under the mosquito netting onto their combined beds. "This is better," Blair said with a sigh, lying down next to Jim and stroking his hand over the expanse of bare skin. "I need you." 

"I can see that," Jim said, smiling as he eyed the swollen cock that twitched at the slightest touch. He leaned in to capture Blair's full lips, probing with his tongue to touch and taste. Blair's mouth opened for him, his body molding to conform to Jim's, pressing their hard cocks together. 

They rolled, with Blair landing on top. Jim's hands smoothed their way down the curve of Blair's spine to cup the rounded ass cheeks. A finger gently probed inside the relaxed anus, reaching for the pleasure point and finding it. 

Blair cried out and arched back, away from the kiss, pushing up against the invading finger to increase the pressure on his prostate. "Ah, God, Jim! Ahhh, Jiiim!" Blair was panting now, trying hard to hold on to himself so that he didn't climax too soon. 

"Love you, Babe," Jim crooned, brushing the curtain of hair away from the passion-flushed face. "You're so beautiful." 

"Jim! Jim!" Blair gasped, pulling away and rummaging in the pocket of his discarded jeans for the lube he'd brought along. "Gotta do this. Gonna come!" Blair crawled around behind Jim and began to prepare his lover with trembling hands. 

Finally, Jim reached back and grabbed a wrist. "Enough. I need you in me." He rose to his knees, presenting his backside to his Guide. 

Blair grasped the narrow hips and aligned himself with the entrance to Jim's body. His cock was so hard and aching that it almost hurt to breach the tight muscle of Jim's anus. But once buried inside, instinct took over and the Guide's mind and heart melded with his Sentinel's in the oldest dance of all. With a cry that rang out in the silence of the twilight, Blair's climax pulsed through him, as he emptied his load into his mate. Collapsing, he rolled off Jim, surprised to find that his lover had come with him. 

"Now we'll have to wash our sheets," Jim complained in a teasing tone. 

"'m hungry," Blair murmured from beside Jim. 

"Then get your shapely ass out of bed," Jim teased. "This isn't a five star hotel, it's 'Survivor' on steroids." 

The two men got up and ate their dinner under the stars, then returned to bed and cuddled down for a well-deserved night's rest. 

+++++ 

The next ten days were spent much like the first two: hunting and gathering their meals, interspersed with frequent bonding. In addition, their spare time had been spent in the tedious work of making rope and weaving it into a net large enough to snare a small pig. When it was ready, they headed into the forest, looking for the pig run with the highest traffic. Jim's senses of sight and smell were particularly useful in picking a likely spot to set their trap. 

They dug a shallow pit and put the net inside, covering it with debris from the forest floor. Then, using the remaining rope, Jim rigged a booby-trap. The first pig to tumble into the pit would be hoisted four feet into the air by the net -- an easy prey for Jim's machete. 

"Now we wait," Jim said, turning Blair around and coaxing him out of the heavily wooded area. "Don't worry. I'll be able to hear if we make a catch." 

+++++ 

It was two more days before Jim heard the squeal of the captured pig in the late afternoon. Blair was over a mile down the beach, collecting more oysters, as the rocks nearer to their campsite had been depleted. Taking the machete, he headed into the woods to make the kill. 

The pig was a young one. The mother most likely had sensed the danger and gone around, but this little piglet had forged ahead into danger. It was just as well. This was their last night on the island. Tomorrow afternoon, Martin would be returning to take them back to Samoa where they would catch their plane to Sydney and from there, back to Cascade. They wouldn't have time to eat a larger animal, and the young one's meat would be tender. 

By the time Blair had made his way back to camp with his shirt full of oysters, Jim had butchered their catch and was cutting the meat into chunks to roast over the fire. 

"We got one!" Blair shouted, running the last few yards up the beach. "Wow, I'd about given up hope." 

"Just a piglet," Jim said, "but it'll be enough. We'll only cook what we can eat tonight and tomorrow morning, and leave the rest for the carrion to feed on." 

They skewered the meat onto a makeshift rotisserie and worked on the oysters while they waited for the meat to cook. 

"I dug up some manioc roots on the way back, too," Jim said. "They're roasting in the coals under the fire. They taste enough like yams to go well with the wild pork. We'll make a feast for our last night on the island." 

"I don't want to leave," Blair lamented. "This has been so perfect. Just the two of us, with all the privacy we'll ever need." 

"And you can't beat the tan," Jim said, grinning from ear to ear. 

"The one thing I won't miss is that beard of yours," Blair declared, tugging at the short hairs on Jim's chin. "It scratches." 

"At least _you_ don't have to shave," Jim bantered, gesturing at Blair's hairless body. 

"Lucky for you," Blair returned the tease, "because I was far more hairy than you could ever hope to be!" 

With a roar, Jim pounced, tackling Blair to the sand and pinning him down. His mouth found the tight teats, and he worried the nipples with his teeth until Blair cried out from a mixture of pleasure and pain. Sliding down the supine body, his lips wrapped around the head of Blair's cock, which throbbed with the sudden need for release. His Guide had responded to the mating hormones; already his anus was dilated and ready, leaking a thin film of lubrication. 

Blair struggled against the tight hold, his squirming just inciting the Sentinel to a higher level of bonding. The mouth on his cock teased him with maddening slowness, sucking his spiraling climax from his body. His back arched and his eyes rolled back in his head as he screamed, his cock convulsing with the energy of his orgasm. Barely aware, he felt himself filled, body and mind, with that of his lover, his Sentinel. He was so overcome that the pounding his body was taking barely registered. 

Jim threw back his head and howled as he pumped his seed into the limp body, lowering Blair to the sand when he was finished. Slowly, sanity returned and Jim was shocked at the ferociousness of the bonding. Where had that come from? The primal urge to take and claim? Blair lay beside him, his eyes mere slits with only the whites showing. 

Concerned, Jim went into the fale to collect a blanket and came back outside to wrap the shivering body in its warmth. With one hand, Jim continued to turn the rotisserie, while his other arm wrapped around Blair, holding him close against his body for extra warmth. 

Slowly, Blair came back around, opening his eyes and blinking. "What the hell was that?" he asked softly, his voice hoarse from screaming. 

"Damned if I know," Jim said, concern strong in his voice. "You scared the shit out of me. _I_ scared the shit out of me," he added. "I felt like an animal rutting; the need to claim my mate overriding any common sense." 

"Oh, God," Blair breathed softly, tugging the blanket tighter around himself and looking up at Jim, a faint smile curving his lips. 

"What?" Jim asked, slightly irritated -- his fear that he'd harmed his Guide, or could do so again, uppermost in his mind. 

"That must have been the primal bond," Blair responded. "We learned about it in Guide training. Only two percent of bonded Sentinels and Guides ever experience it," he explained. "They're the ones that are linked so deeply that if one dies, the other follows." 

Jim watched the reflection of the fire dance in the blue depths of Blair's eyes, and shook his head. "I've come too close to losing you too many times already," he said. "I wouldn't _want_ to continue on if you died." 

"Me neither," Blair said softly. "God, Jim. Do you think it had something to do with us being isolated out here so long, dependent on each other for survival, like the Sentinels and Guides of tribal times?" 

"That's your field, Darwin, not mine," Jim replied, pulling the meat off the skewer and dropping it onto banana leaf plates. "All I know is that each day we're together, I need you more. Here, have something to eat, you look beat." 

They finished their meal in silence, each contemplating the new level they'd reached in their relationship. Jim eyed the platinum band on his finger. _Not even death will part us now, Chief,_ he thought. 

After a quick rinse in the surf, Jim tucked Blair under the blankets and spooned up behind him. He didn't want to leave Nu'utele Island, either, but perhaps they could come back someday and renew their vows to each other -- vows that meant far more than any words spoken in a church; vows that went to the very center of their beings, binding them as Sentinel and Guide beyond the reach of death. 

Pressing a kiss against a tanned shoulder, Jim whispered, "Sleep well, _lo'u alofaina ta'ita'i._ " 

**THE END**

[ _Lo'u alofaina ta'ita'i_ means 'my beloved Guide' in Samoan.] 

* * *

End Chosen 5: Siege by Natalie L: nat1228@comcast.net  
Author and story notes above.

Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


End file.
